


Fate

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-22
Updated: 2004-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-25 04:18:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1631132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Cassandra's fate to live as a slave for the rest of her<br/>life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fate

**Author's Note:**

> Written for shati

 

 

I've always wondered if I would see my own death. Or if, after all those dreadful visions that had come true, my cruel gift would forsake me at last. But Apollo was not merciful; I knew that.

So here I was, having survived the destruction of my home, the death of all the people I loved, and my own defilement. I clutched the wall of the chariot, feeling like a sheep brought to the slaughterhouse. Agamemnon turned and gave me a smile. I could only think of his hands groping at me in the darkness, his stench that was unescapable in the crowded ship. My fate was to live the rest of my life as a slave in his hands. That was all I could see of my future, a black abyss at my feet, going down endlessly.

He went into the palace, and I was forgotten by him and by everyone else, left by myself outside in the chariot. It didn't matter anymore. I would just stay here and wait for whatever was to come. I tried to stop thinking of the future, but then my thoughts were slipping to the past. The burning walls of Troy, the dead warriors, the screaming women, the crying children. I could still see it when I closed my eyes.

Someone was approaching me. It was Clytemnestra, Queen of Argos, wife of my captor.

"Come inside, Cassandra," she said and held out a hand. She was not smiling, but her dark eyes had a look of warmth that I had not seen in anyone for a long time. "You will be treated kindly."

I just looked at her without answering, reluctant to take the step that would seal my life as a slave. It had been sealed long ago, but that was none of my doing. Even if I had no choice now, it still seemed to me that walking to her and entering the house would mean that I had accepted my fate. I wasn't ready for that yet.

"Don't be afraid. It may seem hard to come here as a slave, but you will learn that he is not a cruel master, neither am I."

I wondered at her kind words. There was no need for that; they could just have me dragged inside. Here was the Queen, come out of the hall, where she was welcoming her long-awaited husband, to stand in the cold and coax me like a shy horse. Maybe she is not that happy to see her husband, I suddenly thought. He had their daughter killed - what mother could ever forgive this?

My next thought drowned in a flood of pictures filling my head. Blood forming a pool on polished marble stones. Blood painting the edge of an axe. Blood trickling down from a pair of slender hands. Blood streaming from a figure on the floor, crumbled in a heap like a discarded doll. The axe was striking down, crashing into the flesh, once, twice, thrice. Then I saw her face, her eyes were twinkling, and she was grinning in wild joy.

I blinked, and it was gone. I was shaking and tried to steady myself. It had always been like this, coming out of nowhere and lasting no more than a fraction of a moment. I don't think she had noticed it. She was still looking at me, the same eyes, such a caring look that I could not believe it was the same woman. But it was. I had never been wrong.

"Do you understand what I'm saying?" She gestured to me and back to her. "Or don't you speak Greek at all?"

I didn't move. I wanted nothing more than just to get away from this house. It was a curse, and I didn't want to witness the destruction playing out. How could she be friendly with me when she was planning in this same instant the murder of her husband? I turned my head and stared into the empty air. I couldn't stand to look at her anymore.

I was glad when she finally walked away. Let her think I was a dumb barbarian. As long as I didn't have to go into that house. Seeing the visions come true with my own eyes was always the worst. Every time I had been hoping that maybe this time I would be wrong. Yet I had never been able to escape the dreaded truth.

What would be my fate? Was I also to die on the marble floor by the axe in her hand? Was this Apollo's last punishment? I hoped so. I had seen enough. There was no future for me except bleak despair.

Then another vision hit me. A shadow leaning over me, stretched out like a long dark snake. I didn't dare to look, but I had to. The axe was bloody, it lingered over my head. My look followed the blade to where it met the hilt, the hilt to where it was tightly held by the long-fingered hands, the arms and the shoulders covered with flowing silk, up to her face. Her eyes dark with obsession and hate and a hint of sorrow. Then I saw no more.

So it would come, here and now. I felt calm now that I knew. All was going to be as it was meant to be. No need to fear any more, because this would be the end. I didn't want to wait any longer. There was no use in delaying what was inevitable; it would only bring fear and more misery. I stepped off the chariot and walked slowly but steadily to the palace.

When I came to the door, I recoiled. A stench of blood engulfed me and made me gag. No. I couldn't go in there. I just couldn't. "Help me, Apollo!" I cried, but it was in vain. The god had cursed me long ago. I sank down on the ground and covered my face in my hands. I wished I could tear my eyes out so I wouldn't have to see anymore. In my mind I still saw blood and death, his and mine. I could not escape it. I could not run away.

A long time later, I took a deep breath, drew myself up and entered the place of my death.

There she was, still standing over his body, the axe raised over her head. She didn't bring it down again. Instead she turned to me. Somewhere a servant screamed. She didn't move when I walked towards her. I only prayed, in a last invocation to Apollo, that it would be quick. Just one little step, and then it would be over. No more pain, no more gods. Only sweet death.

I came to a halt before her, excepting the blow to fall.

It didn't.

She lowered the axe slowly, then it was crashing on the floor. The mad fury had vanished from her eyes.

"You didn't expect me to kill you." She raised her eyebrows. "Did you?"

I found myself shaking my head in spite of myself. I knew what I had seen. But in this moment, I couldn't imagine how I could ever have believed it.

"My dear Cassandra." Her finger brushed my cheek, leaving a wet trail behind. "All is well now. He can't hurt you any more."

I gripped her wrist and pulled her hand away from me. "You murdered him!"

"So I did." She seemed unmoved. "As he murdered my daughter. Now she is revenged."

"It is not for you to seek revenge." It was a horrible deed. I couldn't think of it any other way. She was sprinkled with blood.

"Why not? Because I am a woman?"

There was more truth in her question than I would admit. "Because Iphigenia was not murdered, she was a sacrifice for the gods."

"So." She prodded his dead body with her foot. "I sacrifice him to whatever god claims him. You are still speaking of the gods? Was it not a god who cursed and forsook you?"

"He punished me," I said quietly. Then louder, "As you will be punished."

"We all pay for our choices, my dear. What I did was something that had to be done. But let's not dwell on this any longer." She took my arm. "I am sorry that you have seen this, you were supposed to be safe in your room now."

I let myself be dragged away by her. I couldn't understand what was happening. I was supposed to be dead now. Was this the first time that I had been wrong? Had my mind tricked me into seeing something that was no prophetic vision? Whatever it was, I was still alive. So much had changed now. Suddenly, I had a future lying before me, a future unknown. My captor, my cruel slave master, was dead, so I suppose I belonged to her now. A part of me rejoiced that she killed him. I was free of him. But she was still a wife who had murdered her husband, and even if she seemed calm now, I remembered too well the slaughter I had witnessed. I was afraid of the madness that was hidden inside her.

She led me through a door to a chamber with a huge tapestry which showed scenes of fighting heroes and gods quarreling with each other. At the wall there was a bench covered with yellow pillows. She gripped my shoulders and sat me down on the edge of it.

She seated herself beside me and took my hand. I didn't draw it back when she began to stroke it. "You know," she said softly, "when I heard that he brought you with him, I was jealous. Furious that he would do that to his faithful wife and bring his love slave to my face. After I saw you, I was still jealous. But jealous because _he_ could have you, not I."

I was enraptured by her gaze. I was fascinated by this woman who could be so cruel one moment and so kind the next. I had never hoped to see kindness again, not in this place. A little earlier all I had hoped for was a swift death. Now she was luring me with the joys of life.

"What are you expecting of me?" I said, and looked straight into her eyes.

"Nothing." She smiled, and I noticed for the first time how beautiful she was. Sister of Helen indeed. "Nothing at all. I won't hurt you like he did. Trust me."

Trust her. That was not an easy thing to do after I had seen her betrayal to her husband. Still, even if could fear her for it, even if I could dread the curse she had brought on herself, I couldn't be angry with her for saving me from him. "I am glad that he is dead."

"He doesn't matter any more. Now it's just you and me."

She let go of my hand and moved her fingers further up my arm; her touch was like silk on my skin. Then I gave way and sank into her embrace. My thoughts vanished, the world narrowed down to this moment, without a past or a future, no pain and no sorrow, just the closeness between us.

She took a breath and rested her chin on my shoulder, our cheeks touching comfortably. "Ah, sweet Cassandra, I love you."

Suddenly it all came back to me. How often had she said these words to him? The fingers that were caressing my back were still sticky with his blood. My mind filled again with the picture of Clytemnestra, her eyes open wide, her hair disheveled, raw violence bursting from her, and an axe blow that landed deep in my flesh.

I tried to shove it aside, tried to convince myself that I had escaped this fate and it was only a bad dream. But as much as I was longing for comfort, what was beginning here could not lead anywhere. I was still a slave; her power over me was complete. A traitorous part of me whispered that it didn't matter, that I should let myself be carried away by her promises. But I would be no more than a sheep meekly following her, depending on her whims. No, I had defied a god, so I wouldn't let myself be seduced by her.

Whatever fate brings upon you, it never takes away your ability to make a choice. Someone had once said that to me, but I hadn't believed him. I believed now.

"No," I said, and backed away from her.

 

 

 


End file.
